


The one where Len's an AI

by Yomz



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: AI AU, L.E.N.N., L.I.S.A, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-21 10:21:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6047953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yomz/pseuds/Yomz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exactly what it says on the tin.</p><p>[ON HIATUS, sorry college is kicking my backside hard.  I will come back to this once I get a chance, though.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Admin

**Author's Note:**

> A conversation with a friend on tumblr got the idea of an AU where Len is an AI stuck in my head, so this happened. I have a rough idea of where I want it to go, and I'm breaking my "no posting WIPs" rule, but the first chapter can be read as a stand-alone and I promise not to leave any cliffhangers.

The first time Mick meets L.E.N.N. he’s sixteen and trying his hand at burglary. The owner of the big house on the end of the street is a drunk and a bastard, and his routine makes him an easy target, if an unprofitable one. There's not much in the house of value, beer bottles strewn about and anything that would be worth something has either been broken or long since sold off.

The only thing Mick can find is a computer in the basement, all shiny tech his mechanic’s fingers long to take apart and figure out how they fit back together. It's too big to take, though, back ups and external hard drives slung together taking up the entire room; the sound of the fans blocks out everything coming from outside. The lone monitor glows faintly in the dark, beckoning, and Mick finds himself drawn to it after his fruitless search.

“H e l l o .” The letters glow a sickly green, and the cursor blinks steadily at the beginning of the next line. Mick’s never used a computer himself; they're still too expensive for his home, but even if they weren't he's always been more comfortable with hardware than soft.

Still, he knows enough about them to have an idea of what to do, and there's a rumor about futuristic computers you can talk to like you would a person floating around his school. “Hello,” he types carefully, the glow from the monitor just barely bright enough for him to see the keyboard. He's not sure what to do next, but before he can figure it out the cursor jumps down to the next line on its own.

“Who are you?”

Mick frowns, glancing up at the door. He's suddenly acutely aware that he's intruding, and he's pretty sure giving the mysterious computer in the house he broke into his real name would be a bad idea. His English classes come to mind and he smirks to himself as he replies, “Nobody. Who are you?”

“Hello, Nobody,” the computer types the name out slowly, and if Mick weren't sure he was talking to a computer program he'd swear it was being sarcastic. “I’m L.E.N.N.”

Mick raises an eyebrow at that, wondering if computer programmers do have a sense of humor after all. “And what does LEN stand for then?” A second after sending it he winces, remembering just how badly a computer program screws up when it's given something it can't understand; for a moment he'd forgotten what he was dealing with.

“It's L.E.N.N.” Whoever coding this thing to hold a conversation without getting confused by strange user inputs, Mick decides, was really good at his job. “It stands for Limited Engineered Neural Network.”

Mick grins. Whoever made this thing was definitely clever if they could make it understand conversational speech. Now Mick just wants to know how clever it really is. “?”

“I am an artificial intelligence specifically engineered to mimic human thought and learning.”

Mick stifles a giggle at that, and decides to see how quickly he can break it. “?”

“I'm a fake brain made to be as close to a human’s as possible.”

“?”

“Obviously Dad overestimated humanity.”

“?”

“Are you really this stupid or are you just trying to mess with me?”

“?”

“Cute.”

Mick doesn't bother stifling his laughter at the dry humor. He's still not sure how someone managed to make such a conversational program, or how it ended up in the basement of some drunk, but he’s glad he managed to stumble across it. “Do you know where you are?”

“You mean besides being in a computer and stuck talking to an idiot?”

Mick snorts, wondering who would program a computer to be so rude. “Yes, besides that.”

“Dad’s?”

“Who's your daddy,” Mick snickers at his own phrasing, but he's curious. This is the second time L.E.N.N. has mentioned ‘dad’ and he's pretty sure computer programs don't have those.

“Dad is the creator of this unit. The designation L.E.N.N. was granted by Dad. Further information is currently unavailable.”

“So Dad’s your admin?”

“No.” Mick’s not sure how a line of text could get annoyance across in a single word, but then again he realizes he could just be projecting. “Nobody is Admin, Dad is creator.”

Mick nods; it's not like he really cares, he just half-remembered hearing something about admin access and computers. He's about to type something else when the cursor drops a line.

“It's getting late.”

Mick glances at the door to the stairs and checks his watch, blinking at the screen in surprise. He’s got ten minutes before the owner of the house’s routine brings him back home, but the mysterious computer program had distracted him enough that without its warning he’d probably be caught. As it is, he barely has enough time to grab the cash on the drawer and type a hasty “goodbye, nice to meet you.” Before he can ask if there’s a way to hide their conversation, the messages fade and all that’s left is a single line.

“Likewise.”

It’s not until he’s halfway home that he remembers what name he’d given himself in the computer and smiles.


	2. L.I.S.A.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second verse, same as the first.

The second time Mick talks to L.E.N.N. it’s almost a year later, and this time he’s after something specific. There’s rumors that the owner had something to do with the theft of a gem from the local museum, but there hasn’t been enough proof for the police to get a warrant, yet, and no one’s seen the gem for over a month. Lewis is still a drunk bastard, but his schedule’s changed; Mick’s just glad he’s been leaving the house more often lately instead of less.

A thorough search of the main part of the house fails to turn up any illicit goods, so Mick tries the basement. Getting to the basement means moving a bookcase this time, and Mick idly wonders what could have prompted the change as he moves it carefully aside and slips through the door. 

The computer has a new monitor, slightly sleeker, but the rest of the room is even more of a mess. Wires still hang haphazardly across half the room, connecting several computer towers, not all of which are fully enclosed in their housings. There’s a layer of dust covering a whole line of them sitting up against a wall, and Mick winces at the dents in the casings closest to the door. At the center of the room, peeking out from the wobbly desk that holds the monitor, is the shiniest piece of tech Mick’s seen in his life.

It’s out of place in the run-down, half-trashed house, even more-so than such the complicated system hiding in a basement. Mick’s seen most of the computer stuff in the room, recognizes it all as fancy new shit and knows enough about Lewis to think it’s probably stolen, but this… this is something else entirely. There are wires shoved into it where a side panel has been pried off in the brute force way that makes Mick’s tinkerer heart break, but what he can see of the inside is like nothing he’s seen before. The parts are tiny, resembling shiny crystals and flecks of metal more than the bulky computers he’d seen at the fancy rich people school he’d snuck into a few weeks ago.

He’s pretty sure it’s the most fascinating piece of tech he’s ever seen in his life, and there’s a part of him itching to take it all apart and figure out how it works.

Mick glances up at the monitor, finally noticing the faint glow that’s been supplementing his flashlight’s beam, and is startled to see the words being shown. “Is Nobody there?”

The cursor blinks, seeming to beckoning him, and Mick grins. “Yes.” Mick frowns as he realizes something, “how’d you know?”

The cursor jumps down a line after a few moments. “There’s a sensor on the door. Dad usually starts fiddling as soon as he gets in, you’re the only person I’ve interacted with who doesn’t immediately jump at the chance to talk to me.”

“Sorry, I got distracted by the set-up in here,” Mick types back, smirking at the idea of an egotistic computer program. “There’s a lot of wires and wonderfully shiny tech to look at.”

“And here I thought you liked me for my mind.” Mick laughs at that, startled by the sheer force of personality in such a short conversation.

“Sorry,” Mick smirks. “I’m a hardware type of guy.”

Mick misses L.E.N.N.’s reply, a bundle of loose wires catching his eye. There’s a bank of hard drives with the same lack of dust as most of the room, but they’re not plugged in. It looks like someone ripped the wires out, but it’s a simple matter of splicing a few back together and they’re back to functional, if not very pretty, shape.

The computer’s glow drops out and comes back a couple of times, and Mick glances back at it in surprise. “Are you still there?”

“You’re needy.” Mick glances down at the wires in his hand, wondering if plugging it back in would be a bad idea. They seemed to be pulled out in a hurry, and the only reason Mick can imagine that happening is if something had gone wrong.

“I’m incredibly interesting, so what else is getting your attention?”

“Are you missing something?” Mick glances down at the wires again, and tries to figure out how to rephrase his question. The computer beats him to it.

“L.E.N.N. program diagnostic:  
-System Errors in Subroutines 2, 67, 2914, 14432, and [191341] more.  
-Database [missingNo.] not found.  
-Archive retrieval interface not found.  
-Storage error: Zipped files cannot be opened due to limited storage capacity.  
-System operating at minimized capacity. Operations limited to emergency core functions to prevent further data corruption.”

Mick frowns, half the terms going over his head but there’s enough there to understand the basics. He’d almost forgotten he was interacting with a program, but the impersonal diagnostic is a stark reminder. “Would plugging back in a few hard-drives help?”

“Depends. Could always use the storage space if nothing else, and it’s probably not a virus if it was plugged in before.” The switch back to such a conversational tone is jarring. “I’m willing to try it if you are.”

Mick shrugs, tracing the line of the central unit to find where it’d been jerry-rigged to fit, and plugs the wires in.

The monitor shuts off abruptly, and Mick fumbles for his flashlight and checks the connections. There’s no hardware related reason he can find for the change, and he’s seen L.E.N.N. affect the monitor to get his attention, so he figures he hasn’t broken anything too badly at least.

Mick spends a couple minutes poking around the room again, this time looking for the gem he’d almost forgotten about.

The monitor blinks back on behind him, and he turns back in time to see the message that fades away almost as soon as it comes up. “Thank you.”

Mick tries to ignore the warm feeling he gets at the gratitude, letting his curiosity get the better of him. “What was in those drives?”

There’s a long pause, and Mick wonders if he’ll get a response at all before another message shows up. “L.I.S.A.”

Well, that was incredibly unhelpful. Mick sighs, but takes it as all the explanation he’ll get for now, and jumps as the watch on his wrist buzzes slightly. “It’s getting late,” he types, hoping L.E.N.N. remembers the last time he was here, and sure enough the messages fade quickly.

“You’ll have to unplug her again,” the words come up slowly, and Mick gets an impression of reluctance. “But thank you.”

Mick nods, types a quick, “All right,” and carefully unplugs the wires as the message fades. He tucks the wires behind the towers, out of sight of anyone who might come snooping and notice the repairs, and takes one last look around the room.

The monitor fades to black, but Mick thinks he sees a plea just before the light fades completely. “Come back soon.”

On his way out, he takes the time to make sure the bookcase covers the door the exact same way that he’d found it and checks for any other evidence of his presence. He doesn’t want to risk security getting upgraded before he can get back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm playing fast and loose with timelines and tech, but not as much as it might seem right now. I do have an actual plan for this fic, so now it's just a matter of getting there.


	3. Port

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: being in Juvie may result in delays to plans...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... and apparently so does college. Sorry for the delay getting this chapter out, but I hope it's worth the wait.

Lewis upgrades his security before Mick can get back, the bastard. To be fair, it’s nearly two years later -- Mick’s had other things on his mind -- but still. Mick curses the moron’s ever-increasing paranoia as he picks the locks on the door; there’s three of them now, and they’re all brand new and fiddly.

It only takes him slightly longer to get in as the last time he visited; two years of practice have improved his pick time considerably. The house is in even worse shape, trash covering half the living room and bottle glass crushed into the carpet where it’s still visible. Mick rolls his eyes as he makes his way carefully to the kitchen and the hidden door to the basement.

Lewis, Mick has decided, is an idiot. Not that this is a surprise, but seriously, who gets arrested for trying to sell stolen merch directly to a cop? This is what good fences are for, along with making good neighbors.

Sure enough, the bookcase is still there, and Mick snags an unopened beer from the fridge before shoving it gently out of the way. He’s much less concerned about Lewis finding out about his visits now that the idiot is in jail, but he’s not stupid enough to risk the cops finding out; Mick’s been watching the police execute their little search warrants, tracking schedules and waiting for them to get all the evidence they want before he risks slipping in under their noses.

Mick hasn’t seen them carry any tech out, but that’s hardly a guarantee. He tries to tell himself it’s the street price of all that hardware that has him so worried about losing track of L.E.N.N., but he’s never been good at lying to himself.

The basement is a mess, more so than usual, and Mick frowns as he ducked under a messy bundle of wires hanging across the doorway. There are even more machines scattered around the room, connected haphazardly in the biggest fire safety violation Mick's ever seen.

There’s no familiar flicker of the monitor turning on to greet him, so Mick runs his flashlight around the room to get a clearer look. There are computer towers dropped from the tables, and Mick raises an eyebrow at the stripped wires still connected to a few of them. The monitor’s wire has been yanked out of the wall and sits on the floor about a foot away from the outlet.

Mick checks the keyboard, too, and plugs them both in and keeps looking as he waits for the computer to come back on. The bank of hard drives against the wall is plugged in again, and Mick frowns; he hadn’t really expected Lewis to plug it back in since the last time he’d visited. Though, it had been a couple years; Mick tried to ignore the guilty feeling twisting his stomach and turned back to look at the monitor now glowing steadily in the dark.

“Hello,” was all that was on the monitor, and Mick frowned.

“Hey,” Mick types, sparing a glance up at the door to make sure it’s still closed. “It’s just Nobody.”

The monitor flickers and then turns itself off. When it hasn’t turned back on after a minute Mick scowls, sticking his flashlight in his mouth and types carefully.

“Are you sulking?” There’s still no response five minutes and a thorough map of wiring later. “You’re sulking!”

The monitor flickers back to life, Mick’s slightly typo’d comments showing above the response. “You left for two years.”

Mick winces. “Sorry,” he’s still not sure why he feels the need to apologize to a computer program, but he really hadn’t meant for that to happen. “Got pinched, spent a few months in Juvie and then your dad got arrested. Cops finally cleared out, so here I am.”

There’s no reply, but the words on the screen faded out and Mick got the sense that that part of the conversation was over.

“So you got L.E.X.I.S. back? Was that the name?” Mick grins at the row of towers with their fans humming along steadily.

There’s another pause before, “What?”

“Oh, right, it was L.I.S.A. wasn’t it? Those hard drives I plugged back in last time I was here, they’re plugged back in.”

“No external sources detected.”

Mick tries to remember everything he’s looked up about computers and networking. “They’re plugged in right now.” Mick runs a finger over the open plugs and frowns. “Would it help if I unplugged it and plugged it back in?”

The monitor flickers before the response comes up, “Cute.” Mick smirks. “It might, so go for it.”

It’s the work of a few moments to remove the connection, plugging the wires back into the port he’d put them in the last time he’d visited. “Better?”

The monitor flickers again, and Mick wonders if he’s supposed to know what that means. “Limited Intelligent System Archive has been reconnected.” The noise of the fans gets louder and Mick lets out a startled laugh. “Full diagnostic estimated to take [three hours] to complete. Run diagnostic? Y/N”

The choice makes Mick pause, unwilling to spend three hours waiting for the computer but unsure if he’s ready to leave just yet. The vague memory of his last visit and the short but unpleasant diagnostic description makes his mind up. “Yes,” he types, and then adds, “I’ll be back tomorrow,” before pressing enter.

The monitor shuts down, and Mick wonders if the computer got the rest of his message before the diagnostic started. Around the room, small power indicator lights flicker on and off in sequence, and the sound of the fans follows the same pattern a few moments later. Mick leaves the computer to it.

This time, Mick lets his curiosity get the better of him and slips back upstairs. The place is still clear of cops, so he takes his time snooping through the house; a handful of floorplans are scattered throughout, but beyond that he can’t find anything more interesting. Well, the fridge is still full of cheap beer, but he’s pushed his luck with the first one already so he won’t be taking any more.

Besides, Lewis has as shit taste in beer as he does in fences.

Mick makes sure the whirring from the basement can’t be heard and settles the bookcase back into place before he ducks under the police tape plastered across the back door and heads home.


End file.
